


Lights Out

by Gia279



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fight Scene, Gen, Kinda, M/M, pynch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3254930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 36 of The Raven Boys in Ronan's POV, basically the scene where Ronan hits Adam's dad. Kinda Pynch? I'm a big Pynch shipper, so there are hints.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights Out

**Chapter 36 of The Raven Boys in Ronan’s POV**

“The buck stops here,” Ronan said, pulling up the hand brake. “Home shit home.”

He could see the Parrish family’s double-wide in the dark, a gray box with two illuminated windows. Someone peeked out of the curtains, too fast for Ronan to get a look at them. 

He and Adam were alone in the BMW, as Gansey had driven the Pig from the hospital to Blue’s house, so he drove it back to Monmouth as well. They weren’t fighting at the moment, so it seemed to be okay. They were too shocked about everything that had happened to argue. 

Adam reached to the backseat to get his messenger bag. “Thanks for the ride,” he muttered. 

Someone else came to the window to peer out. Ronan recognized the silhouette as Adam’s father and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He was shaken himself, thinking about Gansey facing a gun. 

About how tense Adam looked staring at his own home. _Let us help you,_ he wanted to say, but then, he wouldn’t have listened to that advice, so why would Adam?

Adam had gone tense, and the words burst from Ronan without permission. “Man, you don’t have to get out here,” he said, straining toward casual.

Adam didn’t acknowledge the words. “Don’t you have homework to do?” he demanded, deflecting.

He grinned. “Yes, Parrish. I believe I do.” He saw Adam staring at the trailer, at the shadows in the window, his body going rigid in the passenger seat. “Do you think they’ll arrest Whelk before class tomorrow?” he asked, to distract Adam. “Because if they do, I’m not doing the reading.” 

Adam turned his head slightly to acknowledge Ronan’s words. “If he shows up for class, I think the reading will be the least of his concerns.” 

Ronan didn’t know how to help Adam when nothing was wrong. “I better go feed the bird.” He looked down at the gearshift, thinking. He envisioned a gun pressed to Gansey’s forehead, imagined he could hear his pulse pounding with rabbit-fear. 

“I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if Whelk had shot Gansey today.” He didn’t realize he was wondering what they would have done in that situation until he said it. Where would they be? _What_ would they be, without Gansey gluing their friendships together? 

Gansey, on the side of some road in the middle of town, bleeding out while he drank himself stupid or something. 

Ronan tried to imagine himself dealing with his father’s death and his older brother’s attitude without Gansey, tried to imagine going to school and bearing it without his best friend, and found that it was more painful than he’d have thought.

Adam fidgeted next to him. “But he didn’t.” Adam was not a _what if_ type of person, for which Ronan was vaguely grateful at the moment.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Lucky you taught him that hook.”

Ronan wanted to snort. That, at least, was something he could think about without the heart-wrenching feeling in his chest. “I never taught him to break his thumb.” Because what idiot punched with the thumb on the _inside?_ It didn’t even feel natural.

“That’s Gansey for you,” Adam said with a thread of weary amusement in his tone. “Only learns enough to be superficially competent.”

“Loser,” Ronan snorted, straightening in his seat and stretching his legs out. 

“See you tomorrow,” Adam said, nodding. “Thanks again.”

Ronan looked away from him, out his own window, flexing his hand. Now that they’d talked about Gansey, now that they agreed that he was safe and a loser who couldn’t throw a proper punch, he was irritated again. 

“No problem, man,” he forced himself to say. “See you tomorrow.” 

Adam heaved a sigh as he got out of the car, knocking on the top of the BMW as he passed. 

Ronan started to pull away, keeping the pace slow. He hated himself for it, but he wanted to watch what happened, make sure Adam was okay. It wasn’t a big deal. They were friends. 

As he drove down the driveway at a glacial pace, his eyes flicked from the rearview mirror to the road, trying to keep Adam in sight.

They hadn’t even gone inside. Ronan wanted to stop the car, but he kept creeping along, his attention fully on the mirror. Something in him was starting to coil. He was already pissed off about what had almost happened to Gansey, already pissed off that he hadn’t gotten to take his frustrations out on Whelk. 

He saw Parrish’s hand reach out and collide with the side of Adam’s face, even as Adam was reaching to block the blow. He stumbled back and missed the step, his head smacking hard and audibly against the railing before he hit the ground. 

Ronan stopped the car, his legs braced to get out. Adam was on his knees on the ground, moving his head like he didn’t quite understand how he’d gotten in the dirt. 

Parrish started yelling, waving his arms like he was annoyed that Adam hadn’t caught himself after being hit in the face. He was already out of the car and jogging back toward them when Parrish lifted Adam by his shirt collar, shaking him. 

“ _You’re a fucking liar, you ignorant little shit!_ ” Parrish was yelling. “ _Do not ignore me,_ ” he growled, before he noticed Ronan running toward him. “What do _you_ want?” 

“To do this,” Ronan snarled, his knuckles smacking into the skin of Parrish’s cheek with a crack and a smack of flesh. 

“Ronan,” Adam rasped, dropping to the ground.

Parrish grabbed Ronan’s shirt and flung him toward the trailer, but Ronan was young and fast, and drew his knee up to dig into his gut before he slammed into the trailer, doubling the older man over. Parrish reached for Ronan’s head, flapping comically over Ronan’s head as he ducked down to punch him again; Parrish reared back and smashed his head into Ronan’s face, blood bursting from his nose.

He pulled away and swung his fist in Parrish’s face again, dancing back when Parrish swung wildly, letting out furious animal roars and pants. Ronan over balanced and his shoulders hit the dirt; Parrish got a gleeful look on his face as he swung his foot toward Ronan’s face.

Ronan threw his arms up to protect his head and Parrish leaned in to tear them out of the way. But Ronan wasn’t his abused son, too scared to defend himself. He whipped his hand out and grabbed Parrish down to the dirt with him, rolling over so he was straddling the man and planting his fist in his face, gagging when Parrish reached up and hooked his fingers in Ronan’s mouth. 

He spat and pressed his arm down on his chest, but Parrish, who had about fifty pounds on him, rolled them over; Ronan shot to his feet and was dragged back down just as quickly. He rammed his knee up against the man’s gut again, slamming his head down against the ground and scrabbling free. 

Nails raked the side of his face from behind and he snarled like a wild dog, swinging his elbow back against Parrish’s mouth, his head snapping back and blood spurting from his mouth. 

The red and blue lights of police cars lit up the scene like a horror movie. Ronan, still revved up, lunged at Parrish, teeth bared and fists clenched. 

An officer dragged Ronan off; Ronan had just enough thought to go limp, allow himself to be pulled away. 

“—Have you been drinking?” another cop asked Adam.

“He’s not fucking drunk, this motherfucker beats the shit out of him!” he called, straining against the officer holding his arms behind his back. He went willingly, though, when the officer pressed his chest against the hood of the cop car, cuffing his hands behind his back. 

“Is he being cuffed?” Adam asked in apparent shock.

“Have you been drinking?” the cop with him asked again.

“No.” 

Ronan turned his head and saw Adam looking around, his expression lost and dazed.

“I’ve got it, Adam,” he called. “It’s fine.”

Adam looked up toward him, confusion crossing his face, indecision. Ronan knew what he was thinking. He’d known before he’d started the fight. He couldn’t come back here if he turned his father in, and he wouldn’t allow himself to stay with Gansey. 

“I said I’ve _got it_ , man. Do you think I’ve never been in one of these before?” he called louder, letting the officer help him into the car. He’d barely heard his Mirandas, but he’d heard them before. 

“Ronan was defending me. From my father. All this…is from him. My face and my…” He stopped and Ronan practically pressed his face against the glass, mouthing threats toward Adam.

“Come on, man, don’t fuck your shit up for me.”

“Hey, kid, be quiet,” the older officer who’d grabbed him said, sounding exhausted. “Just be quiet.”

Ronan glared at him and turned back to Adam in time for him to say, “Can I…can I press charges?” 

His face was sheet white. 

“Is that true?” the officer asked Ronan. “Were you defending him from his father?” 

Ronan looked across the lot where another officer was speaking to Robert Parrish. “Yeah, that’s true.” He leaned back against the leather of the seat, kicking his legs out and relaxing. “I saw him knock the shi—crap out of him from my car back there,” he jerked his chin, “and got out to help just as he was pulling him up by his shirt and shaking him.” 

The officer ran his hand over his face. “And he hit you back?”

Ronan ran his tongue over his upper lip, which was wet with blood from his nose. He wanted to say that he hadn’t punched _himself_ , but he didn’t want to fuck this up for Adam. “Yeah, he did.” A grin stretched over Ronan’s face. 

There was paperwork to fill out, statements to be made, and people to call. Ronan had to get his nose packed and his face cleaned from the possible bacteria under Robert Parrish’s nails, and he had to ice his hands, but that was fine, that was great. He felt about ten times better than he had before he’d knocked the shit out of Adam’s father.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, Pynch prompts are way welcome! Glue prompts, too, but I can't promise to try writing those. I'm terrible at Gansey x Blue, though I've tried because I ship it, too. ^^"


End file.
